


On the Bridge.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Requests from Tumblr! [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Any spelling mistakes live there now, Depression, M/M, Suicide Attempt, failed suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: Iwaizumi has demons. Demons that drag him under, that weigh him down and make it hard to breathe. He's ready to give into them, having kept it hidden so long.But his boyfriends aren't ready to let him go; Not without a fight.Prompt:How do you think Oiks, Mattsun and Makki would try to help Iwa-chan to deal with depression? I'm not talking here about mild depression, more about Iwa seriously considering committing suicide?





	1. Falling, Tumbling, please don't save me.

“Here. Don’t open them until you get home.” Three faces of confusion and curiosity stare back at Iwaizumi in various twisted expressions. Three envelops are held out to them, each a different shade of blue. Iwaizumi wears a strange, strangled smile and holds them out a little further in insistence. 

Matsukawa is the first one to take the dark blue letter with his name on, tilting his head with a hum caught in his throat.

“Could these possibly be love letters, Hajime? You dork, we’re already dating.” Hanamaki curiously takes his own with a low whistle, holding it up to the light to try and see through.

“It’s not an anniversary quite yet, unless you do weeks and months.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes with a snort.

“As if. That’s a red flag for obsessive, unhealthy relationships.” Iwaizumi twists to face Oikawa head-on, holding the envelope out to him stubborn. Oikawa’s face screws up with concern, as well as scrutiny.

“Are you okay, Haji-chan?” Oikawa’s worried. He can see that _something_ isn’t right. It’s like there’s a dark shadow behind Iwaizumi’s eyes, and his strange behaviour really doesn’t have an explanation. The envelope is pushed against his chest and he has to take it to stop it falling to the ground when Iwaizumi suddenly lets it go.

“Let’s go home.” A tearing noise catches his attention and he whips his head round to Matsukawa, slapping away the hand trying to open the envelope discreetly. 

“I said don’t open it until you get home!” Matsukawa flinches away from him, _stunned_ by the anger and stress in Iwaizumi’s expression. He looks… Sad?

“Hajime…?” In the blink of an eye, it’s gone, and Iwaizumi smiles at him. The corners of his eyes are still unnaturally tight and Hanamaki frowns. He decides to quietly observe, just for a little while.

“Sorry, I just don’t want you opening them before you get home.” He pauses in thought, glancing towards the sky.

“Actually… Midnight. You can read them at midnight.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he starts walking towards the school gates. Oikawa’s jaw open and closes like a fish as he tries to think of words to say, and he exchanges a concerned look with Matsukawa, getting a nod in return.

Something is off.

Hanamaki jogs to catch up with Iwaizumi, attempting to take his hand like he always does. But… Iwaizumi pulls his hand away and sticks it in his pocket. A little hurt, Hanamaki drops back a step and glances helplessly at the other two. Matsukawa and Oikawa quickly catch up, intertwining their fingers with his supportively. As a trio, they trail slightly behind Iwaizumi, until he stops to tighten his shoelaces. 

His shoulders sag. The distance between them grows. He drops his mask, letting the weariness and emptiness show on his face. If any of the other three glance over their shoulders, he’ll cover it up with an excuse of having homework. 

All he has to do is get home. 

Just… Home.

Not far to go.

Three train stops, cross the bridge above the road, and a ten minute walk. 

He can do this.

He can do it.

He-... He can’t do this.

Iwaizumi walks slower and slower, trudging up the steps of the bridge over the road like he’s climbing a mountain, an invisible weight growing heavier and heavier on his back and shoulders, threatening to crush him, demons clawing him down. 

“- and then he slipped off his desk straight into the glue he dropped earlier!” A deceptively peaceful smile spread on Iwaizumi’s face as Matsukawa and Hanamaki laugh at a story Oikawa is recounting. He stops walking as it falls. 

They’re okay without him.

They’re _happy_ without him.

They don’t need him.

His bag slides from his shoulder and thuds on the ground, Iwaizumi’s arms sagging to the point where he can’t physically hold it up. He’s crumbling. He’s crumbling and disintegrating and _it’s too heavy_ -

“Hajime?” He’s three steps ahead of his bag, bottom lip trembling and hands shaking as he sinks to his knees, tearing eye contact away from Matsukawa, who had just so happened to look behind in that instance. Curled up, he feels like a seed wrapped in darkness, choking and suffocating and-

He can’t do this any longer.

“I- I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I-... Please, just go… G-go…” He’s telling them to leave. Telling them to carry on. Hanamaki crouches down with him, trying to put his hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders and just being batted away. Matsukawa watches them cautiously as he moves to pick up Iwaizumi’s bag.

“Hajime, Hajime, what’s going on? Hey, what’s wrong? You can tell us, c’mon, Hajime…”

“Leave!” He pushes Hanamaki away, somehow gathering the strength to stand. He bites roughly into his bottom lip, enough to draw blood, and his nails dig into his palms. Tears streak down his cheeks, but his eyes are… Empty. Oikawa gulps, because he doesn’t know what’s coming next, but his blood starts to boil on instinct, getting ready for _something_. Iwaizumi shakes his head, buries his face behind clenched hands, and his voice drops to a warbles whisper.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore…”

“Do what, Hajime…?”

“I can’t… I can’t, I’m sorry…” His feet tread away from them, unsteadily backing up. His body turns towards the road, his eyes fixed on the horizon, and he starts to run. The bridge isn’t very wide, but he’s running to jump; running to get over the edge of the bridge.

He’s trying to throw himself into the busy, deadly traffic below.

_“Hajime!!!”_

There’s a sickening thud. Oikawa breathes heavily, quivering with a mixture of rage and upset. 

“Don’t you ever- _ever_... Do that again…” Iwaizumi never made it over the edge. Having suspected something was going to happen, Oikawa had tackled him to the floor purely on thoughtless action, managing to run into him just as he jumped, wrapping arms tightly around his waist and sending them both sprawling on the bridge.

Time seemed to have frozen, but just as quickly, it snaps back into action. Oikawa pushes himself up from hovering over Iwaizumi, shivers down his spine at the dead look in Iwaizumi’s eyes, how he lies limply like he’s already gone, chest barely moving as he breathes.

But he’s breathing, thank goodness.

“Taka, carry him. Issei, take their bags.” Silently and shakily, Matsukawa takes Hanamaki and Iwaizumi’s bags, adding them to his own shoulders. Hanamaki trembles as he slides his arms under Iwaizumi’s legs and shoulders, lifting him princess style like he could shatter into fragments at the slightest touch.

“I- I’ve got you, Hajime. You’re s-safe now, you’re safe…” Silent tears creep down his cheeks as his voice pitches upwards, and Oikawa rubs his back as he tries to hold back the flood that’s building up inside.

“Shh… Home, first.” Matsukawa steps between them, tightly gripping one of Oikawa’s hands and latching onto the sleeve of Hanamaki’s shirt. Like this, with Iwaizumi completely unresponsive despite his consciousness, they somehow manage to make it to Oikawa’s - the closest home.

They whisper as if Iwaizumi is sleeping rather than staring a hole into the ceiling, completely lifeless in the way he sags like a ragdoll. Matsukawa removes Iwaizumi’s shoes, placing them in the genkan, and Oikawa gently pushes Hanamaki by the lower back. 

Hanamaki takes Iwaizumi upstairs and lays him on Oikawa’s bed. He turns around for a split second - just to grab some spare pajamas out of the wardrobe - and Iwaizumi finally moves. He rolls onto his side, curling up tightly and gripping the covers underneath him in tight, balled fists. Hanamaki watches him, waiting until he’s settled, and gives a heavy sigh.

“Why, Hajime…?” Unnerving silence. 

“Okay, wrong question. _How long_?” Picking out the plain black pyjamas, Hanamaki shuffles back over to the bed on his knees and tries to coax Iwaizumi into turning over at the very least. He wants to cry. After seeing someone he so dearly loves _shatter_ in an instance, he wants to break down into sobs. He knows Matsukawa is downstairs doing exactly that, most likely wrapped up in Oikawa’s embrace, silently weeping into Matsukawa’s shoulder.

“Hajime, please… _Please_ … We want to help…” This time, it’s Iwaizumi who sighs. It’s airy and light, like he can’t be bothered to even summon breath from deep within to sigh properly.

“I don’t want help.”

“Then- Then what _do_ you want?”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Here?”

“Alive.” Hanamaki winces at the blunt response. His tongue feels swollen in his mouth, too numb and clumsy for words. Not that he can think of anything at all to say back. He has to manhandle Iwaizumi to change him into the pyjamas - not because Iwaizumi fights back, but just because he doesn’t make any move to change himself. Tugging the covers out from underneath him, Hanamaki tucks Iwaizumi in and stays by his side until he wearily gives in to sleep.

Tiptoeing out of the room and creeping down the stairs, Hanamaki finds Oikawa and Matsukawa curled against each other on the sofa, sniffling. Their eyes are red and watery, and they cling to each other like there’s nothing else in the world. Hanamaki’s bottom lip wobbles, his eyes water, and he wipes his nose on his sleeve emotionally as he steps over to them.

“Room for one more…?” Matsukawa lifts his arm up in invitation, allowing Hanamaki to wriggle in as close as he can, reaching across to intertwine his hand with one of Oikawa’s legs tangling with Matsukawa’s. It’s almost like they’re trying to merge into each other.

“How’s Haji-chan…?”

“Asleep. And- and not good… This wasn’t a- This wasn’t a ‘spur of the moment’ thing.”

“You mean…?” He nods into Matsukawa’s shoulder, feeling it quiver as the meaning of it sinks in. Oikawa takes a steady, deep breath. Remarkably, he’s the most calm out of all of them.

“I thought he’d been acting… Odd, lately. I didn’t think it was this bad.” Matsukawa whines in distress and buries his face in Oikawa’s chest. He’s always been more sensitive than Hanamaki, so he must be feeling completely torn up right now. Hanamaki presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, rubbing his arm with his free hand.

“Shh… Let it out, Issei.” It takes a couple of attempts, gasps and choked sobs cutting him off halfway multiple times.

“Wh-what do we d-do now…?” A pause of silence, where Oikawa only stares at the ceiling with a lost expression, is filled with Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s sobbing.

“There’s not much we _can_ do. But we can’t leave him alone. We can’t let him try again.”

“How do we do that though…?” Oikawa turns to them, his eyes filled with fire of determination - determination to keep his best friend alive and reclaim him from the monster of depression - and an unwillingness to ever back down.

“We’ll take shifts.”


	2. Oikawa - Rice and jam.

Since he had been the strongest so far, and they were already at his house, Oikawa volunteered himself for the first ‘shift’. Whilst all four of them had fit into Oikawa’s bed and stayed the night, Matsukawa and Hanamaki left for school the next morning. Very hesitantly, of course. Oikawa had practically had to kick them out. After a quick breakfast, he’d returned to bed where Iwaizumi was still sound asleep.

Oikawa gently ran a hand through his hair, saddened at the thought of how exhausted Iwaizumi must have been to sleep so much. In paranoia, he kept checking for a pulse, two fingers pressed into Iwaizumi’s neck as he placed featherlight kisses over faintly freckled cheeks. 

He kept seeing what had happened on the bridge over and over again. He kept feeling the brush of wind as Iwaizumi had ran, as he’d jumped. He kept feeling cloth brush over his fingertips before he managed to grab hold, the slow-motion replay in his head making it seem like he had even _less_ time to react. 

He kept hearing the thud - _that sickening thud, thinking he was too late_ \- as he and Iwaizumi had impacted the floor, averting the suicide attempt far too fast for his brain to keep up.

It had only been afterwards, hearing his panted breath echoing like someone was breathing right into his ear in the silence, that he had registered what had happened. Oikawa was thankful that he was blessed with physical instinct, because if he hadn’t been, Iwaizumi would have been no more than a chalk outline on the road below, body taken away in an ambulance and police directing traffic around the crime scene.

If Oikawa hadn’t reacted without thought, Iwaizumi would be dead.

The realisation chills him to the bone and he shudders, holding back a grimace in case he wakes Iwaizumi. He needs to sleep. He needs to rest. He needs to know that it’s okay, to not be okay. The space between Iwaizumi’s brow creases, and Oikawa knows he’s waking up distressed.

“Mngn…”

“Shh… It’s okay, Haji-ch-... Hajime. It’s okay…”

“Too… Ru?” He runs his hand through Iwaizumi’s hair again, thick locks between his fingers and feeling his scalp beneath his fingertips.

“Mhm. Just relax, it’s okay.”

“... I failed, didn’t I?” Oikawa slowly twines his arms around Iwaizumi, hugging him securely as he spoons him. Usually, Iwaizumi would grumble about how he didn’t _want_ to be the little spoon just because he was shorter. Today, he sinks into Oikawa’s warmth, sagging in his arms like he can’t muster the energy to go anywhere else. Oikawa gently kisses him behind the ear.

“You didn’t fail anything.”

“I should be dead right now.”

“No… No, Hajime, no… You shouldn’t be. You don’t deserve that.” Iwaizumi’s eyes thin with fatigue, his lip thinly pressing together, and his hand twitching like he wants to clench it into a fist. He’s being hard on himself, Oikawa can tell. He’s beating himself up on the inside. Gently, Oikawa rests on his elbow, leaning over to kiss Iwaizumi’s cheek - just a barely there brush of his lips across the skin.

“You _don’t_ deserve it. Listen to me, Hajime. Nobody deserves it.” Silence. Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi’s heartbeat through the pyjama shirt, circling his fingers in a hopefully soothing way.

“... I’m so tired…”

“Sleep, then. We have all day.”

“Not that kind of tired.” Iwaizumi’s gruff voice is just so… Worn down. He sounds like an elderly man with nothing left to live for, no hope and no energy.

“Haji-chan…” Slowly, Oikawa withdraws himself from the cuddle to sit up, ruffling his hair to make it feel more comfortable. He shifts around on the bed until he’s lying on top of Iwaizumi, nose to nose with him.

“I love you.”

“Mhm. Love you too.”

“I just… Don’t understand why you didn’t tell us how you were feeling. Why?” He presses his hand to the side of Iwaizumi’s face, his heart skipping a beat when Iwaizumi covers it tenderly with one of his own, either out of muscle memory or routine.

“You wouldn’t have freaked out if I said _‘I want to die’_ from absolutely nowhere?” Wriggling closer, Oikawa pressed their forehead together, closing his eyes. Iwaizumi has bad morning breath, but that doesn’t matter right now.

“I would. But it didn’t come from nowhere, did it, Hajime?” Iwaizumi grumbles, incoherent words that Oikawa can’t make sense of. Opening his eyes and rolling them, Oikawa hops up onto all fours, giving Iwaizumi a bright, encouraging smile.

“Come on! Up!”

“Why?”

“We’re going to do your _favourite_ things, make today a good day!” Iwaizumi groans, a garbled sound from the back of his throat.

“ _Nothing_ is my favourite thing anymore, okay? I don’t _feel_ things like that anymore. Just… Emptiness.” Oikawa exhales steadily as he gets off the bed, searching for clothes that Iwaizumi leaves here on more than one occasion.

“I know. But that’s all the more reason to _try_ and find something to make you feel again. Medication will help. We can go to the doctors later. But for this morning, let’s try finding something that helps you cope.” Iwaizumi snorts, rolling onto his front in the bed and burying his head in the pillow, tilting it so he can still be heard talking.

“Death? Death seems like a good idea.” Oikawa glares at him. He throws a hoodie so it lands perfectly across Iwaizumi’s torso.

“Get up. Don’t make me carry you, because I _will_ if I have to.” There’s a muffled curse into the pillow and then Iwaizumi slowly gets up, managing to move into sitting on the edge of the bed before his energy fails him. He sways there, staring at the floorboards vacantly.

Dissociating, Oikawa thinks.

He stays quiet, not wanting to pull Iwaizumi out of it too soon and leave him feel unbalanced. Having been through a depressive episode in junior school, Oikawa knows what it’s like to feel suffocated, drowning in a thick cloud of blackness. But this is worse. This is _so_ much worse, because he never tried to kill himself. Iwaizumi’s been falling for a long time, hiding it skillfully until it broke him.

Dressed and brushed hair, Oikawa gathers the rest of what Iwaizumi will need to wear, underneath the oversized hoodie - probably Matsukawa’s - that he threw at him earlier. Iwaizumi’s chin drops suddenly and he jerks back to sitting up straight, blinking rapidly.

“... Ah. Sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologise, Haji-chan.” Hairbrush in hand, Oikawa sits next to Iwaizumi on the bed, so close that he may as well be sitting in his lap. But instead, he wraps one arm around Iwaizumi’s waist, the other reaching up to brush his short, messy hair. Iwaizumi relaxes into it, leaning against Oikawa and resting his cheek on Oikawa’s shoulder. They stay that way for a few minutes, until Oikawa’s arm starts to ache. 

“C’mon. Can you get dressed?” 

“Of course. M’not a baby.”

“I know~.” Iwaizumi feels soft lips press lovingly to the corner of his frown, and they quirk up in a flicker of a smile. It fades quickly. He wants to cry. He loves Oikawa and Hanamaki and Matsukawa _so_ much, but he feels like he has to leave them. For their sake. He feels like he’s just a burden.

And now they know he wants to die, he feels like an even bigger burden. Blankly, he dresses, not even registering what he’s doing. The shirt is back to front and one of the socks inside out, but he doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to care. When he picks up the hoodie, there’s a waft of fragrance. It smells like Matsukawa.

“Hajime?” When Oikawa turns back around after packing a small rucksack, he doesn’t expect to see Iwaizumi burying his face into the hoodie, tightly clenched in his hands, arms wrapped around it like a lifeline. That’s exactly what he sees. With a soft, sad smile, Oikawa walks to Iwaizumi and pulls him into a hug from behind.

“Want to put it on?” Iwaizumi nods, though he makes no move to let go of the hoodie as a bundle. Gently and understandingly, Oikawa manages to pry it out of his hands and pulls it on over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, rolling the ends of the sleeves up so they don’t drown Iwaizumi’s hands, and kissing the back of his neck before pushing the hood up.

“There. Feel safe?”

“Mhm.”

“Feel better?”

“Little.” It’s good enough for now. Oikawa releases him from the hug and grabs his small rucksack, carrying it by the small handle with one hand, the other loosely holding Iwaizumi’s hand as he leads him downstairs. Iwaizumi makes a beeline for the sofa.

“I’ll get you some breakfast. Cartoons are on channel 6.” He doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Iwaizumi is definitely watching cartoons. He loves them, or at least, he prefers them to other programmes. Not wanting to leave his boyfriend alone too long, Oikawa makes some toast and jam, putting it on a plate with a side of rice. 

… Okay, definitely not his best combination, but it’s quick and filling.

“Eat up!” He holds the plate out in front of Iwaizumi, growing more and more nervous the longer Iwaizumi stares blankly at him. How he can appear so judgemental with no expression at all borders on terrifying.

“Rice.”

“Yes.”

“With jam.”

“Y-Yes?”

“ _Together_?”

“... Yes.” Oikawa internally sighs with huge relief as Iwaizumi takes the plate, rolling his eyes.

“I must be crazy for letting you feed me this…”

“It’s fulfilling and energising! You’ll need it for this morning!” Iwaizumi grunts, but he eats anyways, partially paying attention to the cartoons, the other half of him wondering what Oikawa could be planning. He’s on his phone, scrolling through avidly, and making various expressions that has Iwaizumi reluctant to ask what he’s doing.

“O-kay~. That’s your doctor’s appointment booked.”

“... My what?”

“Doctor’s appointment. For severe depression. It’s at 4 this afternoon.” Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at Oikawa, somehow managing to love and loathe him at the same time. His heart belongs partly to Oikawa, (The others belonging to Hanamaki and Matsukawa), but _doctors_? Iwaizumi hates them with passion.

“Not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“ _Yes_ , Hajime, you are going. I’ll come with you, but listen… This isn’t a fight you can beat alone. You _need_ medication. Prescribed anti-depressants.” Iwaizumi huffs, sticking his hands in the hoodie pocket and slouching. There’s a rice grain stuck to his cheek, and Oikawa reaches out to brush it off.

“We have until 4~. Put your shoes on, we’re going for a walk.” Iwaizumi trudges off to the genkan, dragging his feet and hunched over. Lethargically, he slips his shoes on.

“Tooru, do we really have to go out?”

“Yes, we do.” Oikawa practically pushes him out the door, hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders and leaning towards him.

“Go, go, go!”

“I’m _going_.” At some point, Oikawa goes from pushing him to pulling him by the hand, carting him around the park, along the river, and into their childhood secret den. They talk. They share ice cream. But Iwaizumi still feels low, like tar is building up around his heart and weighing him down, growing stickier and sludgier by the moment.

“Tooru…” Oikawa glances at him in concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

“Home?”

“Mhm.” Oikawa guides him home, his fingers intertwined with Iwaizumi’s and occasionally squeezing in reassurance. He’s doesn’t want Iwaizumi to break again. He’s _terrified_ of Iwaizumi breaking again. This time, they go to Iwaizumi’s own house, because it’s 5 minutes closer to their childhood den by the riverside, where they’ve been relaxing for a few minutes.

But Iwaizumi wants something warmer, safer, quieter. He wants to bury himself under his bedcovers and hide away from life just for a little while. Just to recharge. He knows Oikawa won’t let him die or dwell in this deep pit of hollowness forever, so he just… Needs to… Rest…

Oikawa tucks him in and kisses his forehead. Iwaizumi might glare at him, but he appreciates it really. What he _doesn’t_ appreciate is the doctors appointment later, and Oikawa is definitely going to have to fight him into going.

But for now, with Oikawa humming as he tidies up Iwaizumi’s mess of a room, he slowly closes his eyes and drifts off, letting the depression nap claim him for death practice. His breathing evens out, his muscles lose tension, and he’s asleep in seconds. 

Now that he’s asleep, Oikawa pulls out the letter Iwaizumi gave him earlier. He has a horrible feeling that he knows what it might be already. Peeling it open hesitantly, he slides out the folded paper and he only reads through the first line before he crumples the letter up and launches it across the room, grabbing a cushion to muffle the upcoming scream.

_Dear Tooru,  
I love you. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for doing this to you, ‘Hiro, and Issei. By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. I’m going to kill myself tonig-_

Oikawa hides his sobs in a cushion, finally letting out his emotions, having acted strong for Iwaizumi all day. When the sobs becomes sniffles, he wipes his tears and snot away, vowing with all his heart that he’ll do whatever he can to help Iwaizumi through this, even if it meant acting strong everyday for the rest of his life.


	3. Matsukawa - Cuddles and Prunes

The next ‘shift’ is Matsukawa’s, and after having a quick doze once he got home from school, he was ready to stay with Iwaizumi all night. 

Of course, this entailed a lot of cuddling, since he was still scared senseless that Iwaizumi would try something if left unattended for even a minute. It didn’t occur to him that he was smothering Iwaizumi until three hours after midnight, when Iwaizumi groaned and sat up.

“You’re making me really sweaty… Please, just. Give me room to breathe.” Biting his lip, Matsukawa shuffles a tiny bit away and Iwaizumi just sighs. 

There’s faint disappointment in the way he shakes his head, and Matsukawa reaches out to tenderly put a hand over the one Iwaizumi leans on.

“I- I’m sorry… I’m just so scared that if I let go, you’ll be-... You’ll be gone…”

“... There’s not much I can do _in my room_ except throw myself out the window. Pretty sure that wouldn’t kill me.” Shakily, Matsukawa sits up just to wrap his arms around Iwaizumi, pulling him in closer than ever and holding him tightly. 

Despite the sticky, sweaty contact - and his earlier complaint - Iwaizumi doesn’t move away. Maybe because he can feel how Matsukawa trembles.

“I can’t- I can’t let you g-go, Hajime… I’m- I’m _terrified_...” Iwaizumi presses closer to him, nose nuzzling into Matsukawa’s collarbone. His breath dusts over skin lightly, almost like he isn’t breathing at all and Matsukawa holds him as tight as possible so he can feel Iwaizumi’s heartbeat.

“I’m sorry. If I’d just waited-”

“Waited!? Hajime, no! I’m- I’m glad we- Tooru was there to stop you…” Iwaizumi snorts, blatantly disagreeing with the sentiment. 

“Surprise, I’m not.”

“I know you’re not, but… But I’m glad you’re still here… Haji, I love you so much… We- We’d miss you for the rest of our lives.” The thought of having to live without Iwaizumi… It hurts. It feels wrong. There’s an empty space, a hollow cut-out that burns into Matsukawa’s heart and chills him to the bone. A life without Iwaizumi… It isn’t right.

“Please, please don’t do this… Let us help you.”

“You can help as much as you want, it won’t _do_ anything.” There’s a pause where Iwaizumi shuffles as far away as he can, trying to get some space between them so they aren’t uncomfortably overheating.

“Besides, I don’t have the energy to try again. I don’t have the energy for _anything_.” Matsukawa runs a hand through Iwaizumi’s hair and grimaces at the greasy, sweaty texture. Come to think of it, he’s starting to smell a bit too...

“How about a bath, then? That takes no energy. And you need one.” A husky chuckle is pulled from Iwaizumi’s throat, and he slowly sits up, rubbing at his eyes with closed fists. 

“Okay. We can do that.” Throwing back the covers, Matsukawa leaps out of the bed, dashes into the bathroom to start the water running, and returns as quickly as possible. He’s still scared. He’s still on-edge. Despite Iwaizumi assuring him that he wouldn’t try again - yet, anyways - Matsukawa still panics about leaving him alone. 

If he was desperate enough to die that he tried killing himself in front of them, there’s no telling what he’d do alone.

Having barely moved, Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at Matsukawa barrelling into the room like he’s being chased by demons. His feet hover just above the floorboards even when he’s sitting right on the edge of the bed and he wriggles his toes. It’s a strange sensation, being completely lethargic yet restless at the same time. He wants to do _something_ , but there’s nothing he wants to do.

“Bath’ll be ready soon. You coming?”

“Yeah… Yeah, one sec…” He hesitates for a moment, but steadily gets to his feet and follows Matsukawa down the hallway. There’s no doubt that they’ll share the bath, but that’s nothing new. Thanks to the traditional Japanese bathtub Iwaizumi has, all four fit in it, just a little squished. Two of them can relax quite easily.

As they strip off in the little room before the washroom, Iwaizumi drops his clothes to the floor in an untidy pile. It doesn’t really matter, he’ll just be putting them back on later. Matsukawa, on the other hand, folds his up and places them in the baskets where they should go. He pulls the sliding door across and kicks a stool into place under the showerhead. A slight nod of his head is the only gesture he makes for Iwaizumi to take the stool.

“Want me to wash your back?” His lips brush the tip of Iwaizumi’s ear as he leans over, detaching the shower head from the clip on the wall and checking the temperature of the spray with his other hand. 

“Okay.” Iwaizumi passes back the bar of soap from the dish attached to the wall, resting his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees as he hunched over slightly. Warm but not hot water washed over him, and as Matsukawa worked the soap bar into suds on his back, Iwaizumi closed his eyes and unwillingly relaxed. 

“Feel good?”

“Mhm.” He’s on the verge of dozing off when Matsukawa starts washing his hair - making it very hard to fall asleep when there’s water cascading down his face. Still, it feels good to get the grime out. Just a tiny bit cleaner, he feels… Okay. Lighter. 

Matsukawa nudges his side, and Iwaizumi shuffles across to sit cross-legged on the floor to watch him shower off. He’s remarkably quick, though it does make Iwaizumi laugh when Matsukawa shakes his head like a wet dog, sending bubbles and water droplets flying. Matsukawa softly smiles, rinsing off the last of the suds.

“Now for the best part.” He strides over to the bathtub, grabbing Iwaizumi’s wrist on the way and tugging him over. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as Matsukawa smirks.

“Don’t you dare jump in.”

“Oh, I’m not~.” Iwaizumi didn’t have time to ask him why he was behaving so mischievously when he was suddenly swept from the floor. He almost shrieked, if the sound hadn’t caught in his throat, but Matsukawa laughed as if he had anyways. Then, he stepped into the bathtub and slowly slipped down, still holding Iwaizumi close.

“... You-! You could have just got in and let me get in afterwards.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Iwaizumi huffs. Matsukawa appeases him with big, sloppy kisses over his cheeks, until Iwaizumi turns his head to connect their lips. The playful kisses become slow and comfortable, still just as innocent as before but with much more contact. After a little while, Iwaizumi moves away to rest his head against Matsukawa’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting the water encapsulate him. 

One of Matsukawa’s hands rests on his hip, the other on his inner thigh from where his arm wraps underneath him, to stop him sliding under the water. There’s nothing sexual about the touch, even as Matsukawa circles his thumb, and Iwaizumi smiles a _tiny_ smile at feeling so loved.

So, _so_ damn loved.

“I love you, Issei.”

“Love you too, Hajime~.”

“... I’m getting wrinkly.”

“Wanna get out?”

“... No.” The water is warm and he’s far too comfy to move. Matsukawa laughs and cranes his neck to kiss Iwaizumi’s forehead, settling back down. They can get out if they start feeling dizzy. But right now, it’s more important to be happy.

Matsukawa knows the happy moments will be few and far between for Iwaizumi, even when he starts to heal. So even if he’s wrinkly and too hot in water set at Iwaizumi’s preferred temperature, he’ll bear through it, to cherish those small moments that show a glimpse of Iwaizumi beforehand - when he was gruff but happy and content. 

Slowly, Matsukawa peels his eyes open to the white ceiling. 

Was he ever _genuinely_ happy?

Ah, he can’t risk ruining the mood right now. He’ll ask later, maybe in a few days, when the anti-depressants and plenty of love and support shows progress in fighting off this mental disorder. Tugging Iwaizumi in a little closer, Matsukawa shuffles up a little higher for easy breathing. 

Within time, Iwaizumi somehow wriggles to lie on top of him, and they manage to stupidly fall asleep in the bathtub. (Hanamaki wakes them up when he comes in for his ‘shift’, laughing at them as they topple out the tub together screeching about how much they look like old prunes.)


	4. Hanamaki - Slimes and glass.

“Bye! I love you! Be safe at school and tell Tooru I love him too!” Waving Matsukawa off, Hanamaki leans out the living room window, pretending to catch a kiss blown his way and clutch it against his chest. He sighs sappily as Matsukawa jogs off to school, a blush on his cheeks and love in his eyes. 

“I love him so fucking much.”

“Same.” He startles at the response, having not expected Iwaizumi to come downstairs so quickly. The last Hanamaki knew, he was being bundled up in towels and shoved towards the radiator in a panic. The expression on his face had been hilarious, but Hanamaki held back a laugh. Obviously, Iwaizumi had had enough of being pampered by an overprotective Matsukawa.

“So… What do you want to do?”

“Die.”

“Except that.”

“Cease to exist.”

“Except that _and_ any synonyms.” Iwaizumi narrows his eyes with a pout, adjusting the single towel wrapped around him to keep the air off his buttcheeks.

“... Travel back in time and never have existed in the first place?”

“That’s also on the no list.” Hanamaki sighs, putting his hands on his hips and rolling his shoulders one by one, letting his muscles strain and hearing them click as he works out a knot.

“How about a game?”

“Tooru already dragged me around yesterday. No thanks.” Hanamaki blinks, pointing across the room to the TV and connected Xbox 1, an American import.

“No, I meant. I mean games as in _gaming_. I’m not gonna force you outside if you can barely get out of bed.” Iwaizumi exhales in relief, eyes softening as he slackened, shoulders dropping to a relaxed position.

“Thanks, ‘Hiro.” Hanamaki grins back at him, rosy cheeks and cute dimples making the world seems a little brighter.

“Go and dressed~. We’re not dorking out over game characters when you’re in a _towel_.” Iwaizumi snickers, swishing the towel like a dress.

“Why? Scared it’ll fall off~?” Rolling his eyes, Hanamaki shakes his head with a small smile, picking up on the sarcasm and replying with his own.

“Oh yes, because then I’ll have to absolutely _ravish_ you.” Iwaizumi instantly stops swishing the towel, freezing in place as a ruby red flush starts creeping on his face via the tips of his ears and cheeks. Hanamaki covers his mouth with a hand, muffling a giggle. Iwaizumi is so _cute_.

“Go get dressed~. I’ll set up a game.” Iwaizumi nods, turning towards the stairs. He pauses at the first step and leans back through the living room door frame.

“No Stardew Valley! I can’t believe you modded it to marry _Willy_.” Hanamaki laughs, shuffling through the game cases.

“Alright, alright. Maybe next time~? I need to check on my beautiful husband and our 2 kids!”

“I _don’t_ want to know!” Another laugh fills the room as Hanamaki hears Iwaizumi stomping up the stairs, leaving Hanamaki in charge of what game to play. Something… Easy but also distracting. Nothing with potential triggers. Maybe a game with minimum violence.

He glances over the game library and grins, selecting one which he pushes in with glee. He leaves it on the title menu as he sits back on the sofa, stuffing his hands in his pants to keep them warm as he waits for Iwaizumi to come back. When he does return, he’s wearing the same pyjamas Hanamaki put him last night. He glances at the screen and blinks.

“Slime Rancher?”

“You haven’t started yet, have you~?”

“No. I only brought it because you come over a lot.” Hanamaki pats the sofa next to him, but as Iwaizumi goes to sit down, pulls him into his lap anyways. He nuzzles into Iwaizumi’s neck and lightly presses his lips against the skin.

“You smell good.”

“M-Mhm. Issei used some matcha and coconut bodywash thing.”

“ _Really_?! I thought it was melon!”

“Now you mention it, it does smell like melon…” Iwaizumi faintly smiles up at Hanamaki, getting the tip of his nose nipped playfully in return. Iwaizumi reaches up and squishes his cheeks together.

“No biting.”

“But you’re so biteable.” 

“ _How_ , exactly?”

“Chompy.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but when Hanamaki passes him the remote and wraps his arms around his waist, he leans back into Hanamaki’s warm chest. The game is interesting enough to hold his attention, without being too difficult to accomplish. Although there’s no way of naming the slimes he captures on his ranch, Iwaizumi affectionately dubs a pink slime Takahiro, a honey slime Tooru, and a hunter slime Issei. In return, Hanamaki names one of the rock slimes Hajime, stating that they look similar.

“M’not blue.”

“No, but you’re spiky~. Same haircut!”

“I’m going to push you off the sofa.” Hanamaki laughs, but pats one of Iwaizumi’s hips anyways, gently requesting for Iwaizumi to get off his lap, presumably so he can get up. Grunting, Iwaizumi shuffles to the other side of the sofa.

“I have to pee. Back in a minute!”

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” Hanamaki waves his hand in the air casually as he jogs up the stairs, missing every third step due to a rhythm he hums under his breath. Iwaizumi watches him go with a twitch of a smile, truly loving Hanamaki’s dorkier moments. Truthfully, he thinks Hanamaki might be forcing it, just a little, trying to cheer Iwaizumi up by raising the overall mood.

It might have worked a tiny bit, but… He can already feel the low creeping up on him from absolutely nowhere and his heart feels heavy, his head congested, and everything _hollow_. He bitterly huffs in mock amusement at how he can feel empty and yet so, so overwhelmed at the same time. 

_“I’m not going anywhere.”_ , he said. 

It’s only as he’s walking barefoot out the front door that he really registers he’s going against his own word, _lying_ to Hanamaki, and now he feels worse. Numb, he walks on. He doesn’t care if it’s mid-morning and he’s in oversized pyjamas with no socks or shoes. He doesn’t care if he’s walking further and further away from populated areas and closer to where the river becomes dangerous rapids, with a sheer drop.

It’s like he’s on autopilot, completely dead to the world around him. 

He can hear the roar of the rapids. The ground beneath his feet is getting damp and mossy from the moisture in the area, a light spray coming over the start of the cliff edge. At the moment, it’s not much more than a ledge, but as Iwaizumi follows it downstream, the fall gets steeper, and steeper, and _if he jumped here it would all be over **finally over-**_.

“-Jime!” A hand around his wrist startles him back to awareness, one foot hovering over the edge of the cliff. Slowly, he turns to look behind him, and the expression on Hanamaki’s face makes him want to _cry_. He’s hurt. He’s so hurt that he doesn’t look like Hanamaki, he just looks like _distress_ as a person.

Hanamaki gulps, swallowing down a horrific lump in his throat. He tugs Iwaizumi by the wrist gently, until he responds by slowly walking into Hanamaki’s chest. Tight arms squeeze around him protectively, desperately. He holds back hiccups, hugging tighter as he buries his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder to try and hide the fact he’s crying, despite the fact his quivering voice gives it away.

“Hajime… Hajime, it’s okay… I’ve got you…”

“I’m… I’m sorry…” Hanamaki pulls back, both hands firmly and tightly and Iwaizumi’s shoulders, watery eyes burning into blank, dim ones. Eyes that used to be so alight with life, dulled and empty.

“Why, Hajime?! You- I only went to the _bathroom_!” Iwaizumi flinches, guilt and anger flaring up inside, mixing in a deadly cocktail that makes him want to fight, want to defend his actions - even though he knows it could hurt Hanamaki.

“I- I know! I’m sorry! I just- I _had_ to, you don’t understand!” He wrestles out of Hanamaki’s grip, storming off back down the pathway he had taken to get here. Hanamaki jogs to keep up, fraught with worry, stumbling over roots of plants and hedges. The second he catches up, he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi tightly from behind, lips against his neck. His tears roll down Iwaizumi’s collarbone and disappear beneath the pyjama shirt, but he can’t bring himself to care about acting tough.

“You’re right, Hajime. I- I don’t understand, and I don’t think I ever will. All I know is that this is really hard for you. To- To fight and not give up… It’s gotta be the most difficult thing in the universe right now. But we- Tooru, Issei and I - we’re here for you. We’ll help. You don’t have to face this alone, Hajime, please…”

He’s expecting Iwaizumi to shout back at him. He’s expecting to be fought. What is isn’t expecting - and exactly what happens - is that Iwaizumi bursts into tears, ugly hiccups interrupting his wails as bulbous tears stream down his face. 

Stunned, Hanamaki loosens his tight hug enough for Iwaizumi to sink to his knees, hunched over on the ground frantically wiping away at the never ending tears through his broken sobs.

“H-Hajime?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! It won’t st-stop! How do you make the fu-fucking feelings stop?!” A little surprised, Hanamaki sidesteps round to Iwaizumi’s front and crouches down with him, gently rubbing his back.

“Maybe letting them out will help?” Iwaizumi tries to croak out a response but it just gets cut off with another choked sob. Hanamaki moves to sit cross-legged, staying with Iwaizumi for as long as he needs and never stopping rubbing his back. It takes half an hour.

Half an _hour_.

But the apparent flood has run out and the watergates have dried up. Sniffling, Iwaizumi wipes his face on his sleeves even though they’re already mucky. Hanamaki pulls a tissue from his back pocket to help clean him up - though there’s nothing he can do for red-rimmed weepy eyes and the distinctive red flush on his nose and cheeks. 

Oikawa is an ugly crier, they all agree, but Iwaizumi is just as bad. (Matsukawa is the only pretty crier out of all them, but it’s too painful to see him upset so the tears never last long as three boyfriends rush to comfort him.)

“There, now… Feel a little better?”

“No.”

“Would a homemade hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows help you feel better?”

“... Maybe.” Helping him stand, Hanamaki interlocks their fingers and swings them lightly as they walk.

“Can your door lock from the inside?”

“Mhm.”

“Is it- Is it okay if I do that? Just in case this happens again?”

“... Okay.” Hanamaki pecks him on the cheek, guiding Hajime out of the forested area and giving him a piggyback through the town areas. The soles of his feet are already rough and sore from walking in the opposite direction barefoot.

“... ‘Hiro?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s glass in my toe…”

“You- _WHAT?!?!_ ” Hanamaki quickly finds a bench for them to sit on, dropping Hajime a little roughly in panic in case there really is a glass shard and it’s broken the skin and it could get _infected_ -

He can’t see any blood dripping, so he carefully brushes his thumb over any indentations, getting a hiss of pain from Iwaizumi as he dislodges a small shard from the crease between his foot and middle toe. 

“There’s a tiny cut. Nothing to worry about, but we’ll put a plaster on it anyways.”

“Okay.” He crouches down, letting Iwaizumi get onto his back again. He holds on comfortingly tight, something that makes Hanamaki feel secure for a reason he can’t explain. Softly whistling, he gets them home at a stroll and takes Iwaizumi all the way through to the living room before returning to close the front door. He locks it too, pocketing the key. He leans over the back of the sofa on his way through, heading towards the bathroom once more, kissing Iwaizumi’s forehead and brushing back his fringe.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get some water and soap to clean your feet, then we can put a plaster on that scratch. _Stay. Here._ ” Iwaizumi sighs, but nonetheless sinks into the sofa cushions and folds his arms to show he isn’t going anywhere. For real, this time.

Cautiously, Hanamaki backs out the room, not taking his eyes off Iwaizumi until he bolts up the stairs, fills a bowl with warm, soapy water, and comes back with that, a flannel, and a towel. He’s starting to understand why Matsukawa was so clingy and overprotective. A huge sigh of relief expels all the air in his lungs when he sees Iwaizumi still lying in the same place.

“Alright, let’s get your feet clean.” Iwaizumi grunts, but doesn’t protest as Hanamaki man-handles his feet and wipes them off, ever so gentle and caring. In all honesty, it’s kind of soothing. If he were a little warmer, maybe, he might fall asleep right then and there. As it is, he’s somewhat drifting off. 

“Done!” Iwaizumi startles, almost jumping out his skin at the proclamation. Hanamaki chuckles lightly at him, moving to perch on the edge of the sofa by Iwaizumi’s ribs, laying a soft hand on his stomach and resting it there comfortably.

“Sleepy?”

“Dead tired.”

“How about we go take a nap, hmm?” Iwaizumi sighs, slinging an arm across his head as if he was going to cover his eyes but changed his mind halfway through the action. He glances to the side, avoiding eye contact, with pursed lips and creases of _exhaustion_ highlighting the black bags under his eyes and the redness from crying earlier.

“I won’t be able to sleep. Can- Can you play that slime game? I think it’ll be easier to relax if… If there’s something going on.” Hanamaki smiles, patting his hand on Iwaizumi’s stomach and stealing a quick kiss.

“Sure, on one condition.”

“... Depends.”

“Eat something when you wake up~.” With a snort, Iwaizumi nods.

“I can do that.” Scooching to the floor, Hanamaki picks up the Xbox remote and starts playing where Iwaizumi left off. He can feel Iwaizumi playing with his hair, an adorable habit he picked up when the four first started sharing the bed together. It seems to be a quirk that he now _always_ plays with Hanamaki’s hair when he’s in reach.

“I love you, ‘Hiro.”

“I love you too, Hajime~.”

“When Issei and Tooru get home, can you tell them I love them too?”

“I promise. Hopefully you won’t sleep too much longer after that.” Iwaizumi hums, snuggling on his side and curling up a touch more. Surprisingly comfortable and not feeling too bad despite the tiredness, he falls asleep quickly to the background music of Slime Rauncher. Hanamaki smiles lovingly and leans back to kiss Iwaizumi’s lips softly before he turns back to the game.

It’s going to take a long time, but Hanamaki knows Iwaizumi will be okay again. He’s strong. Even if he’s broken and shattered at the moment, he’s _incredibly_ strong, and with medication, support, and a little extra love, he’s bound to slowly recover. 

They’ll be there for him, the whole rocky road back to health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was incredibly therapeutic to write.


End file.
